


The Cuddle Pact

by FicinaFlash



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crying, F/M, Panic Attacks, Unexpected Cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9655919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FicinaFlash/pseuds/FicinaFlash
Summary: The day Belle French finally has the courage to enter Mr. Gold's pawn shop is the day she finds herself in a unique position to console the Beast of Storybrooke.





	1. Cuddle Me Surprised!

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love fluff, do me a favor and imagine this taking place in a happier town pre-Emma. Belle hasn't been locked up and the citizens are still unaware of their true identities.

Belle walked by the shop for the third time before her insatiable curiosity gave her the push she needed to open the door to Mr. Gold's shop. And if her curiosity wasn't limited to the rare books he carried and carried over to the the pawn shop owner himself, well what of it?

"I'm closed!" 

Mr. Gold's voice was as gnarled as Belle had ever heard it. Brogue thick, words sounding choked, even. If it were anyone else, she'd think they were crying. 

Belle was never one to leave someone crying. Not in the restrooms at her library and certainly not now. If he was crying, that is. He didn't sound like he could be any more angry at her if she were mistaken, so there was little to loose here. 

The jangling of the bell on the door gave away her presence before she would have chosen to and she started at the sound. 

So did he, because she heard a clatter on the other side of the seemingly empty counter. 

"Mr. Gold?" Several beats of awkward silence left Belle in doubt that she was going to receive an answer at all. 

"Had to come see the monster's weaknesses for yourself, hmm?" No longer angry, the timbre of his voice inspired weariness in Belle just hearing in. 

She was coming around the counter herself before she knew what else she planned to do. 

"Mr. Gold, you have to know that isn't true. Oh - what, what happened here?" She couldn't help stuttering over her words a bit - she'd never seen anyone in such an expensive suit, charcoal grey with his purple accents today, sit on a floor covered in dust. It just underscored that something was very wrong with Mr. Gold. 

Itching to help him she flushed slightly hoping he wouldn't see it. Perhaps she did want to know his weaknesses, but only to help strengthen them. 

If he'd let her, that is. 

Minding the hem of her own work attire with one hand, a frilly blouse under a light blue cardigan paired with a navy pencil skirt, and balancing against the counter with another, she managed to clumsily but modestly make her way down to the dusty floor herself. 

It wasn't until she got there that she noticed Gold's cane was left carelessly on his far side and that his legs were straight out before him. His damaged leg was set at a slight angle and his hands were clenching on that thigh. 

He hadn't looked at her, however. Instead he kept his head down with his fringe blocking his eyes. 

"Mr. Gold? Do I need to call the paramedics? I could help you up -" she found herself cutting off mid sentence again, only this time, it was because he'd grabbed her wrist on her way to rest a hand on his shoulder. 

Wrinkling her eyebrows with concern, she only grew more worried to feel that his body was shaking. Though Belle was a young woman alone, he appeared the epitome of the phrase 'more afraid of you than you are of them'. 

He already had one wrist, why not risk the other one? Placing her hand on top of the one loosening its hold on her wrist, she rubbed her thumb across the back of it until he was able to relax enough to release her. 

She didn't go far. 

Emboldened by the acceptance of a small portion of her comfort, Belle decided to give it all. She scooted over a few inches at a time until she was close enough to pull his head over to lean on her shoulder. 

It wasn't until he surrendered completely, burrowing his nose into her neck and his hands in her lap, that she believed she's stumbled into Mr. Gold's crying jag and somehow managed to be soothing him through it, no less. The wetness at the junction of her neck a shoulder began to cool with each of the longer and longer breaths ghosting over her collar bone. 

"Oh, hush. It can't be as bad as all of this, you know? I'll take care of you. There's no where else I'd choose to be." 

He still hadn't spoken a word since she'd come around the counter, but being able to comfort someone usually so put together was a rush enough to keep Belle's curiosity at bay. For now.

Until then there were the long minutes Mr. Gold allowed himself to soak up her gentle, petting strokes. Belle kept a steady circuit brushing her warm, small hands through his hair and down the back of his neck. 

"Mr. Gold?" 

"Mmm?" His voice was heavy under her ear where he rested his chin. Like he was surfacing from deep underwater. 

"Why, well I mean, what - why where you crying?" 

She regretted saying anything when he started to pull himself up and away from her. She was about to flail over herself to invite him back into her arms again when his next words shocked her still. 

"How about we make a deal, Miss French." It wasn't a question. 

He was giving her eye contact for the first time since she entered, and for all they were red rimmed, it was the first time Belle noticed he had flecks of his namesake color in the depths of the brown there. 

Determined to finish a coherent sentence, Belle kept her voice even.  
"What about, Mr. Gold?" 

"There are times I am overwhelmed, Miss French. When an attack comes it usually takes me far longer to regain any type of composure. You've witnessed how that can be inconvenient for business. But with your...intervention today I am hard pressed to find a better alternative. Surely there is something you'd like in return? A large enough donation to the library and perhaps they could afford to keep you on full time, yes?" 

"But, Mr. Gold, how did you know that I'm not full time?" 

"It's common knowledge that the compassionate Miss Bell French volunteers her time when the library can't afford to pay for it." 

"But the books mean so much to me and the library means so much to the community. I couldn't just leave, you know?" 

"Oh, please don't defend yourself to me, especially because I plan to reap the benefits of your altruism. But there is an empty flat above the library and a deal with me could have you living on your own but a floor away from where you are needed." 

"And in exchange?" 

"Oh, nothing untoward. You'll be on call. I'll provide a cell phone just for our correspondence. When I am overwhelmed again, you will meet me either walking if you are nearby or calling my driver in case you are not." 

"And when I get to you?" 

"Oh, I have no doubts the affection you lavished on me just moments ago will suffice." 

Smirking, Belle felt the absurdity of the situation bubble up into her stomach. Perhaps also giddiness at the prospect of more of Mr. Gold's vulnerability to look forward to. 

"So in exchange for donations in the library and your reasonable help getting me into the flat above, I'll be your Cuddle Care Giver?" 

Instead of laughing with her as she expected, he turned away from her and began the struggle to his feet. How could she have forgotten they were on the dusty floor of the pawn shop? 

"Mr. Gold, I'm sorry for my sense of humor. I didn't mean to offend you. And I won't say I'm not interested, although you have to know I'd do it without any sort of deal in place." 

He slowly turned back towards her. He appeared better equipped to hold himself with authority while standing up, cane in hand. If it weren't for his mussed hair and the dust bunnies clinging to his suit coat, she'd say he looked almost his usual self. 

"I've so much wealth and so little to cause to give it away, Miss French. Allow me to do so in exchange for your services... and discretion." 

He held out a hand to her and she took it, turning it into a shake when she was able to get herself upright again. 

"Oh, I wouldn't breathe a word even if anyone would believe me. I suppose I accept then, Mr. Gold. But only if we work on an official title." 

"Title?" He dropped her hand after a beat and placed both on the grip of his cane.

"Am I your Snuggle Support? Cuddle Care Expert? We'll have to come up with one I like. Oh, we can use literature as inspiration!" 

"I suppose we can consider one before I draft the contract." Of course he conceded on a sigh of long suffering. She had the strangest feeling his exasperation was exaggerated and that he rather enjoyed her laughter when he could be sure it wasn't at his expense. 

She walked back around to the front of the counter and was not surprised to see Mr. Gold grow more at ease. She tried and failed to reconcile the man standing in front of her now with the one curled into her like a young child waking up from bad dream. 

What she saw of him today shattered almost all of her preconceived notions about who Mr. Gold actually could be. Her fingers tapped on the counter with the urge to turn back the layers of his character like the pages of a good book.

"I'll stop by the shop tomorrow then? For a rough draft?" 

"Oh, that would be acceptable. If you stop by at five, I may even have tea available." 

"Tea, you say? That sounds lovely. Here, take my number just in case, yeah?" She was scribbling her number with the fanciest fountain pen she'd ever held and a slip of paper she hoped wasn't important. They were both just laying on the desk, after all. 

"Thank you, Miss French. I'll try not to impose unnecessarily." 

Catching his eyes, she poured her charm over the curl of her lips. "It has sincerely been my pleasure, Mr. Gold. I'm honored to help you any way I can." With that, she flounced out of the shop. She had no idea if Mr. Gold's eyes were on her until she was out of sight. 

But she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my first Rumbelle fan fiction! Honestly, this is the first ship I've found on from reading the fan fiction before watching any of the source materiel. The authors posting here are really that good and I was inspired! 
> 
> I don't mind any promts or ideas in the comments. There are so many ways for this to go that I am struggling with pleasurable indecision. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Rumpled Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! In this chapter Belle spies something unusual about Mr. Gold during their contract negotiations that will forever alter the type of things she's willing to accept as impossible. 
> 
> Unbeated and unbroken.

Belle's jitters reached an all time high at five minutes after five when she made it out of the library. 

As she speed walked towards the shop, she tried to hush her mounting excitement - at least outwardly. It was her experience that Mr. Gold spooked rather easily. 

As she made to push open the door next to the closed sign a high pitched sound cut the air. Something like a giggle or a shriek that couldn't have been more out of place with the composed landlord. 

"Mr. Gold?" She wandered around the counter and at the last second saw that it was empty. 

There was a curtain she hadn't entered last time. Slowly, she gathered it in hand and walked the short hallway to a small room with a cot in the far corner and a small dining table decked out in full tea time supplies. Seated right in front of the steaming tea pot was the man in question. Only he had no greeting for her other than harsh breathing and both fists clenched on the table top. 

"Oh, is it as often as every day?" 

He shook his head minimally in response. As she came closer there were thin lines dragged into the table around where his fingertips gripped the hard wood of the table.

She puzzled over this as she leaned behind him with her arms dropped over his shoulders and her chest pressed tightly to the nape of his neck. 

If Belle hadn't known any better she'd say the marks were left by talons or some kind of claws on the tips of Mr. Gold's fingers. 

As she struggled to make sense of what her eyes were telling her, she felt his lips flutter against the side of her cheek. 

"Belle." 

"Yes, Mr. Gold?" She pulled back enough to look into his face at first shocked to hear her first name and then she found herself pulling away entirely. 

He blinked up at her with pupils blown so wide there was only a sliver left to the whites of his eyes.

"Your eyes - they're different!" 

But as he glanced at her indifferently she was hard pressed to note the exact moment they became normal again. 

"Are you here to assist or not, Miss French?"

Haltingly, she stepped back behind him. After she wrapped her arms once more around his shoulders and she allowed him to place his hands on top of hers, he set his thumbs to rubbing at the back of her hands in a mirror of what she did to him the day before.

Perhaps she looked like she could use some soothing, now. 

Getting involved with the city pawn shop owner and landlord was said to be a questionable decision in town. Of all the turns her involvement could take she never expected anything like this.

Could Mr. God really be changing into...something? The impossible?

"Miss French, I am quite recovered, please have a seat." 

Belle's brain was pulling itself in so many directions that her body clicked into autopilot and she sat down just as he requested. Before she was able to grasp time again, he had asked her tea preferences and set an elegant cup and saucer in front of her, steaming. 

"Let's discuss the terms of the contract. When I say 'on call' what I mean is that you will either walk or call my driver immediately. When you are not on call should I need you, you can come at your earliest connivence. I don't expect to own you but I do expect prompt, polite responses. You are not on call during your official work hours, nor on every other weekend. Is this schedule to your liking?" 

"Yes, sure. So, Mr. Gold..." 

"Yes, Miss French?" Belle could scarcely comprehend how he was able to school his face into an expression of such flat politeness knowing she was flabbergasted where she sat. 

"What are the nature of these attacks?" 

She had been impressed with his facial control before, but how he seemed to close her out with every molecule of his being now was something else. His eyes hardened and battle lines were drawn between his eyebrows and around his lips. 

"The satiation of your curiosity is not a part of this deal, Miss French. Your assistance and your discretion, are." he said tightly. 

"But have you tried therapy? Or medication? Anything?" 

"Belle, none of that works. I'm not a madman, and that you were startled earlier is a witness to that fact. I have reasons for my secrecy." 

"No, that doesn't make any sense." 

He glanced away and then, tea untouched, stood up to lightly pace the room. 

"You haven't asked a doctor because... because you must already have a diagnosis. You know what's happening to you, don't you?" 

"Clever Belle." he allowed, weariness creeping back into his tone. 

"Am I - is this dangerous?" 

"No, there is no scenario where I would allow harm to come to you, Miss French." 

"But there is danger for you?" 

Tiring of watching Mr. Gold pace like a caged animal, Belle scooped up her tea cup and began to sip. Though she couldn't have told anyone what flavor it was just then everything went down rather smoothly. 

"I understand if you'd like to back out of our little deal. I can simply draft a non-disclosure agreement instead and the first part of my donation has already been given to the library." 

"No. Once I choose a path I follow it through, Mr. Gold." 

Pressing his cane deeply into the carpet and pivoting quickly Mr. Gold added, "Good. Then you'll have no objections to moving into my guest bedroom should I have need of you all hours of the night?" 

The tea cup fell right through all ten of her suddenly numb fingers. 

"Just a quip, not a stipulation." 

She lent down to pick up the cup, her stomach sinking as she laid eyes on it. A piece of it had broken off against the table leg. 

"It's chipped. You can barely see it, but I'll pay for it if I can, really -" 

"It's just a cup, Miss French. No harm done." 

"I suppose not. I'll just have to use it next time. Oh, and what else is in this contract?" 

"Well, besides the non-disclosure agreement and the definition of 'on call', there are two other parts. The contract will state implicitly that no sexual contact will be expected or required. Should you find yourself genuinely uncomfortable, you will then be free from your end if the bargain while my donations will still be required. The physical contact we indulge in will be strictly platonic and over most layers of clothing, though we will have to be in private. I take it these terms are acceptable?" 

"Those terms acceptable. And you said there was another?"

"Oh?" 

After more beats of silence, Belle couldn't help but ask on a laugh, "Mr. Gold, are you being silly?" 

 

Shaking his head as if to surrender, Mr. Gold continued, "As far as the title you suggested... I cannot call you any of those names. Being a man of my age and reputation it simply cannot be done." He quickly threw a hand up to cut of her teasing appeals. "However, I am offering to instead call the entire agreement 'The Cuddle Pact'." 

"Aww, you spoil sport, I accept. But I make no promises not to make an unofficial one, then. Being a part of something called 'The Cuddle Pact' has a lovely ring to it." 

"Even with the beast of Storybrooke?" 

Where she would've laughed that off just yesterday, today she couldn't help but let the joke fall flat as she peered up at him. If she stared all evening would there be some new discernible giveaway? 

"It's not in the contract to divulge all of your secrets, but as we learn to trust one another, I expect more answers as you can give them." 

"I fear you are asking even more of me than I am of you, Miss French." 

"Maybe today, but I expect as we grow to trust one another and you may be capable of more even tomorrow."

"You aren't curious about the penalties I could write in to the contract should I fail you and you in turn fail to uphold your end of our deal?" 

Standing up herself, she stepped close enough to place her hand on his forearm, today suited up in navy.

"Mr. Gold, the only way I'd want out of this agreement is if you insult what we could build here with lies and half truths." Belle's stern glare quieted him before he began to cut her off. "And even then I couldn't leave you in the states I've seen you in. Do you understand?" 

She managed to tear her eyes away from Mr. Gold's enough to catch the time the clock above the door. 

Stepping back, she patted herself down to be sure she had her phone and wallet in the pockets of her mustard yellow pleated skirt. 

"Trust takes time, Mr. Gold. Now, I will be ready to sign as soon as you have the final draft ready. You have my number in case you need me. As for now, I was supposed to meet Ruby at the diner about fifteen minutes ago. If I don't catch up with her, she'll send out a search party." She was already stepping away from him, and even backed into the door jam. "It was once again my pleasure, Mr. Gold! See you next time!" 

Like a whirlwind she was out of his back office, his shop. So in a rush she didn't hear his parting words, spoken in a voice more whimsical than any citizens of Storybrooke would recall hearing out of him. 

"There is so little time left in me, my Belle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why would the curse behave this way? Aren't we excited for the final transformation? Does Mr. Gold really know what he's in for? We already know Belle is seeing this through! These questions and more will be answered next chapter if I don't get waylaid by more fluff. Thank you again for reading!


	3. Pleasure, Motivation and Serenity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Gold takes the opportunity to turn the tables and bring comfort to Belle, instead.

'Belle,' it read, 'I need to see you at your earliest convenience. Mr. Dove will meet you outside of the library and escort you to my home at five 'o clock if you have no objections?' 

Sighing, Belle answered, 'No objections, I'll see you then.' 

"Why today?" she sighed, speaking to no one in particular. 

"Why what, today?" 

Startled, Belle looked up into the face of Mary Margret as she was approaching the information desk. Quickly placing her phone back into her pocket, she leaned forward on her elbows and gestured vaguely downward. 

"It's a certain time..." 

"Say no more. Do you need anything? I've got the goods in my purse." 

"No, I put in a..." at this, Belle quickly glanced around. It was after three and she had no desire to stir up curiosity in any of the school kids milling about should she be overheard. "- menstrual cup before I came in today. But somehow I'm always surprised when it comes, I guess." 

"Oh, well at least your day is almost over. Then you can curl up and cope with it in peace." 

"Yeah..." she replied, distractedly. 

But all she could think about was having to keep it together long enough to calm Mr. Gold. This was perhaps the first time she felt the least bit hesitant at the thought of meeting him; if only because of doubt. What if he could sense she was off? What if it distracted his calm with her? What if...

"Belle?" 

"Oh! Right, Mary what information did you need in the first place?" 

"Well, I was wondering what you had about soulmates...." 

-

One way or another the time dragged forward and Belle was walking up to a sleek, dark car with tinted windows and the looming shape of Mr. Dove standing with his hand resting on the handle of the door opening to the backseat, waiting to open it for her. 

Stuffing her awareness of her aches deep within, she painted on a smile and instead held out her hand in front of his to shake. 

"Hello, I haven't ever met you properly. I'm Belle." 

"Dove." 

"Would it trouble you if I sat up front? It's a little strange being in the backseat alone." 

A bit nonplussed, Mr. Dove took a half step back and instead opened the passenger door. 

"Thanks! So, how long have you worked for Mr. Gold? We're fellow employees now, you see...."

-

The ride wasn't very long, but in those few minutes Belle had brought Mr. Dove to smiling on three separate occasions, a record she hoped to break their next meeting. He didn't speak overmuch, though his rich voice filled the car whenever he did. Though soothed by the pleasant company, it wasn't balm enough to mask the sensation of ever increasing pressure her body was struggling to contain. 

She was so distracted by her discomfort that almost stumbled into Mr. Dove when she forgot that he would be coming around to open the door for her. 

"Oh, sorry! You are so good at your job, don't let me get in the way. Thanks for the chat, Mr. Dove. Your wife sounds like a sweetheart!" 

She walked the steps up to the house while Mr. Dove somehow folded himself back into driver's seat. 

Walking seemed to stir up every nerve and emotion, and by the time she rang the doorbell she had to mentally fight the urge to fold herself in half. She settled for wrapping one arm around her middle, and using the other to ring the doorbell. 

She was briefly struck by the memory of being a small child, ringing the doorbells of her peers to ask them to come and play. She'd have asked Mr. Gold to play outside were she feeling like herself at all. 

When he answered the door after a few long moments, he herded her inside with the handle of his cane and limped towards an open area on the left side of the gorgeous entry way. She didn't have time to explore, however. 

"Living room." 

His words were pinched, like he'd grounded them out between clinched teeth. 

The pair of them were looking worse for the wear by the short distance to what was likely the most expensive couch Belle would likely ever sit on. She leaned at a slight angle in the corner where the armrest met the back of the couch, smoothing her burgundy slacks and straightening her shiny beige blouse. Then she held her arms open so that Mr. Gold could again sit beside her and hide himself away from the world in the crease between her neck and shoulder. 

As he settled in to her embrace, the tension began to leave him almost instantly. Slowly as not to startle him, she brought one hand to the nape of his neck and the other to rest on the curve of his shoulder. Then she began to drag her hands against the smooth material of his charcoal grey suit and allowed her thoughts to carry her away from the moment. 

It occurred to her that he might be trying to dull his senses against her skin. Perhaps she could bring up the idea to him and they could experiment with elements of sense deprivation. 

It was just then that a series of cramps began. Like little streaks of lightening zipping across her lower back and grounding bellow her abdomen in a flare of pain and pressure. Each successive strike had her gripping and quickly clenching her hands despite her attempts to steady them. 

Time lost all meaning as she clung to Mr. Gold at attempted to match his breathing. 

Just when Belle's cramps began to ease and she felt more herself again, Mr. Gold tensed in her arms and drew himself away. 

"Miss French? Are you alright?" 

"I'm sorry Mr. Gold. It's, well... I'll be fine in a few days." she spoke into her lap where she fiddled with her hands. 

"You could've informed me of any illness, Miss French...if you are certain it's not my proximity making you uncomfortable?" 

"No, no. It's not you. It's a certain problem. It hits me a bit harder every month than most." 

"Than most..?" 

His irritation was beginning to show, and she could t help but wonder if it was the interruption to the cuddling or being out of the loop that bothered him more. 

"Than most women, Mr. Gold." 

"Oh? Oh!" 

"Yes. If I stay longer than a couple hours, I'll need to use your bathroom as well." 

"Certainly, Miss French." 

Though he looked uncomfortable, he hadn't bolted from the room as she'd feared he might. Instead he licked his lips, and placed one hand on top of both of hers on her thigh. 

"Say, would you be opposed to taking a meal with me?" 

"No, I haven't eaten since my last break." 

"Just one moment, I'll grab the takeout menus." 

As he snatched his cane from where he laid it hastily on the opposite arm rest, Belle tried to call him back. 

"But there aren't that many places in town and I have Granny's memorized!" 

When he returned, Mr. Gold had a soft blanket stashed over one arm along with a box of glossy menus. He tossed the blanket over her shoulders and set the box of menus into her lap. 

"I employ a driver, Miss French. Now be honest, is there anything in particular that you happen to be craving?" 

The temptation in his voice challenged her to choose honestly. 

"But what about you?" 

"These menus are all favorites of mine, Miss French. I'm pleased enough by your company than any restaurant will suffice."

Not forty-five minutes later while Belle and Mr. Gold chatted about the use of meter and rhyme through history, the doorbell rang. Moving faster than any man with a cane could be expected to move, Mr. Gold answered the door and accepted the well wrapped plastic containers of food. Mr. Dove also discreetly handed him a small brown paper bag. 

As he was carrying everything over to the coffee table, Belle shrugged off the cashmere throw and began to parcel out the different dishes - all deliciously Italian and loaded with sauces and dressings and cheeses. When she came to the small paper bag and peeked inside she could help her giggles. 

"Did you ask Mr. Dove to buy me chocolates, pantyliners and Midol?" 

"Not in so many words. I hope I didn't betray your confidence, Miss French, but Mr. Dove is married so when I ordered the food I may have seemed unsure about how best to mitigate your symptoms. And he may have volunteered to grab for you what he typically grabs for his wife." 

He seemed so ready to be castigated for his concern but all Belle could do was blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. 

"Can you imagine a man as tall as Mr. Dove in line to buy feminine products?" 

"I'm sure no one else in that line will be able to forget it." 

They giggled like children for a few precious moments before Belle could wait no longer and began digging in heartily, to Mr. Gold's amusement.   
She didn't realize until she went for napkins that she had somehow gotten marinara sauce above her left eyebrow! 

"Mr. Gold, you are spoiling me. For someone who was unsure, you are crossing off all of the items on the 'Period Recovery Checklist'." 

"There is such a thing?" 

"Of course!" 

"Why keep it a secret, I wonder?" 

"Well I think one reason men pretend it's a secret is so they can impress women they're interested in by seeming in the know." 

She delicately opened a golden wrapped bar of chocolate and slipped a piece in her mouth before beckoning Mr. Gold toward her with open arms. 

"At any rate, I think we have time for a few more cuddles before I have to get home to my father." 

He seemed less sure of himself attempting to cuddle without an attack beforehand to steal his awareness. For a moment he busied his hands with making sure none of the mostly emptied containers of food were in any danger of hitting the carpet before pulling her towards him instead and tucking her head under his chin. 

She pulled her legs and socked feet up onto the couch under her and rested her arms against his middle. He gentled his hands over her back and through her pony tail, beginning to sag from the weight of the day, anyway. And there she rested, a hybrid between sitting and curled up into a ball until the cramps faded and her toes grew numb. 

The rest of the evening was a blur for Belle. After awkward goodbyes and another chat with Mr. Dove she was home greeting her father and getting ready for bed like any other day. 

It wasn't until she was laying there, belly full and in her pajamas, that she realized she forgot to note any oddities in Mr. Gold appearance. 

It was strange that she found herself able to normalize something like his changes so quickly... Wasn't it? 

Sleep found her before she found any solid answers.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first Rumbelle fan fiction! Honestly, this is the first ship I've found on from reading the fan fiction before watching any of the source materiel. The authors posting here are really that good and I was inspired! 
> 
> I don't mind any promts or ideas in the comments. There are so many ways for this to go that I am struggling with pleasurable indecision. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
